the ebb & flow

23F USA\ Anonymous Poet \Freelance Photographer

[artniche]

My skeleton is desolate and brittle.

Tumbleweeds to greet the winds shallow embrace,

My rib cage creeks with every breath like old barn doors in the dead of night,

Heat lightning illuminates the eyes of scavengers,

As they sip on maroon puddles trickling along my spine,

With the shadows devouring my very being,

I watch the stars tell me why,

I am my beginning and my end.

[artniche]

I open my mouth to speak and my voice breaks. And then I do something, almost anything and I’m wobbly, awkward and caught choking on my tongue. God my hands feel clammy. Everything melts together and becomes booming white noise. My heart feels like it might explode. I feel sick with the twisting of my insides. Everything is too loud and too much. I cant stop thinking I’m protecting myself with this warmth of isolation.This blanket of misinterpreted self preservation.